Chapter 6 #2
She hugs me, and looks a little tearful as she pulls away. ‘Thank you. I feel better already for you saying that. Like I’m sharing a burden! Now, let’s go to the pub and seal the deal, shall we? They have cranachan on there tonight!’
‘Oh, that’s exciting – what is it?’
‘It’s a pudding made of cream, raspberries, oats and booze. Possibly the finest achievement of modern man. Now, did I remember my sage…’
I’m confused until she roots around in her bag and produces what looks like a dried-up bunch of weeds. The smell isn’t unpleasant, but it is pungent, and I’m glad she’s not setting it on fire.
‘Um… clearing away evil spirits?’ I ask.
‘Och no, no evil spirits here – I just like to use it at home to annoy my sister Joanne. She’s very churchy, and likes to glower at me from her usual spot on her high horse. Every now and then I pretend I’ve gone all Wiccan, just to give her something to pray about.’
I laugh again. It’s good to see that siblings can maintain their petty differences well into their later years. My sister is over a decade older than me, and we were never close enough to want to annoy each other.
‘So,’ she says as we walk along to the pub. ‘How long do you think you’d like to stay?’
The rest of my life, I think. ‘Um, I’m not sure – technically I have another ten days of leave from work.’
‘Leave, is it? Didnae look like that from where I was sitting earlier – you always had one eye on your phone!’
‘I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude, it’s just… well, it’s complicated, but I booked the time off at the last minute, at a really busy time.’
‘And you’re essential, are ye? The whole empire will collapse without you?’
‘Pretty much so,’ I reply, grimacing. ‘But look – we don’t have to stay for all that time. I don’t want to put your friend out. We could stay somewhere else in the area, and I could come back to Bonnie Bay and the bookshop, help with the forms and the project.’
Truthfully I hate the thought of leaving here so soon, and I know Beth will too. Plus I’ve weirdly already started thinking about the logistics of organising an art exhibition attached to a bookshop – I am truly a sad workaholic.
Moira makes a scoffing noise, and looks at me as though I’ve lost my mind.
‘Get away with you, woman! You’ll be staying, and that’s that. Fate brought you all the way here to find us, Jane. I think she can probably stretch to finding a bed for a few more nights, don’t you? Never fear, just embrace the adventure!’
I nod, and try to view it exactly like that. I’ve lived in shades of grey for years, just like the words on her card said – and maybe this is a chance to step into a rainbow, even for a short time. Maybe Bonnie Bay was always going to be significant in my life one way or another.
Beth meets us in the pub, and we are introduced to Shirley, the landlady, and to Xander, her handsome son, and Betty, his spaniel.
I meet a guy called Jimmy, and a lady called Ginny, and Jack and Mac and probably loads more – it’s all a blur of smiles and handshakes and hugs.
Being taken under Moira’s wing is like being taken under the wing of this whole village, and it feels nice.
It feels safe. It feels like being part of something, even if it’s just for a while.
I suppose it makes me realise how easy it is to become isolated – living near London, commuting, putting in long hours.
My life has become small, a whirlwind of Beth, work and juggling the two.
Seeing this place, this complex web of friendships and support, is interesting – these are people who have jobs, but also have balance.
They have lives. They have puddings made of booze.
Now Beth is getting older, it’s something I need to think about.
She loved Edinburgh when we stayed there for a night on the way, in fact started making noises about going to university there – how am I going to cope when she leaves?
I hate the idea for me, but love it for her.
The future is going to change whether I want it to or not, and it’s not fair to Beth for my whole life to be about her.
Beth herself is still fizzing with excitement.
She tells me about the fun she’s had, the dolphins she’s seen, the photos she’s taken, the laughs that she and Laurel have shared.
I genuinely can’t remember the last time she seemed so carefree, so unconcerned.
It is as though a weight has been lifted from her shoulders, which of course lifts one from mine.
I never imagined, all those years ago, that I would be here for the first time with my teenaged daughter. I never imagined I’d make it here as a result of an invitation I found in a book. I never imagined it being anything like this – but I find that I love it, just as it is.
After last orders is called, Moira walks us around to the cottage where we are staying for the night.
I’d learned during the course of our time together that it is the cottage she grew up in, and where she lived with her late husband, Angus, and their grandson, Robbie.
It was after Angus’s death that she wrote the cards that were hidden in the books, and even though she did ten of them, we’re only the third to take her up on the offer.
‘That card,’ she’d said, taking it from me and smiling sadly as she read the words, ‘was the last one I wrote. It was the hardest, too. The one I put most of myself into. I’m so pleased that it found you, and you found us. I think we might even light up the universe together, my dear!’
In turn, I’d told her about my ancient history with Bonnie Bay – the place I’d dreamed of but never visited.
She’d looked surprised, and then incredibly smug.
‘You see, hen?’ she’d said, squeezing my hand.
‘It was fate after all! You’re giving Bonnie Bay a second chance!
Now, let’s see if we can live up to all your old expectations, even if you did arrive here differently than you expected, eh? ’
Looking around the little cottage, tucked away near the harbour, I can’t help feeling she was right.
Maybe it was fate. It’s definitely special.
I’ve never met Kate or Brody or their baby, but I feel like I have, because they’re so obviously such a big part of the village.
The signs of them are all around this gorgeous little home, along with layers of Moira’s presence before them.
It’s cosy and sweet and comes with the most breathtaking views down over the bay.
Once Moira has gone, Beth and I sit at the big pine dining table with mugs of hot chocolate, talking over our days in a way that hasn’t felt so natural for a very long time now. It feels hopeful, like we’ve reached a crossroads and chosen the same path. The right path.
‘This is so nice, isn’t it?’ she says, grinning. ‘Everyone here is brilliant! It’s like it said on that card – it’s a place where you feel wanted! We can stay for a bit can’t we?’
‘I hope so, yes,’ I reply, smiling as she yawns and says she’s heading up to bed.
I do a little work before I turn in for the night, answering emails and fielding queries with much less stress than usual.
I clamber up the stairs, and glance out of the window of the lovely little bedroom I’m staying in.
I’m cosy and warm and safe, the starlight reflected on the waves, listening to the sound of the sea.
It’s impossible to imagine my busy London life, perched here at the edge of the world.
Impossible to feel worried when I’m looking out at that view.
Bonnie Bay might have broken me – but maybe it can heal me too.